


Atlas Space CL Edition

by plutoalwayspluto



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Atlas Space - Sleeping At Last, F/F, F/M, Multiple reincarnations / lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24000997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plutoalwayspluto/pseuds/plutoalwayspluto
Summary: Basically collection of stories based on Sleeping At Last's Atlas Space Album that I've had on the back-burner.Here’s how it goes, Costia meets Lexa, They fall in love. It’s simple and it’s easy, but they spend far too much time in their heads. They spend far too much time fortifying a dam that they only suspect will break.There’s a prickling at the back of their necks….Here’s how it goes, Finn meets Clarke. They fall in love. They’re devoted, but inescapable circumstances force a change in character. And, life is never the same after.Their memories shift…And here’s how it goes, Clarke meets Lexa. They fall in love. It is a constant endeavour as they teach each other emotions on a backdrop of war, tragedy and self-discovery.So, they take a deep breath. They open their eyes, courageous in the notion that they might just be made for this — eager to fall again
Relationships: Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Costia/Lexa (The 100), Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everyone is doing well. This fic is written differently to my other ones. More narration based but hopefully still good to read. I acknowledge that it may not be everyone's cup of tea. I'll try release one chapter per week. Would strongly recommend listening to the songs as you read.

Waking up is harsh every time. 

Finn will attest to that. The lights are always a little too bright whilst sounds pierce your eardrums. But colours — colours paint the world in vibrant shades, frightening you in their intensity. And from time to time, Costia thinks that she might remember to be afraid, and to always steer clear of the ferocity displayed by the colour ‘red.’

You acclimate to your surroundings over days, weeks or months. Sometimes it depends on who you are in this new existence, and, whether it’s naiveté or pride that is your achilles heel this time. Clarke doesn’t know how to describe the haze and time spent in between. She’s not always sure that she wants to be pulled from the cocoon of peace and not thinking. So, in the very beginning Clarke describes a fracture of the mind where the pieces of your consciousness are still so attached to the thoughts and emotions of the last moments of the life before. Like a cavitation in your heart, a sense of loss shapes the way you breathe, beat and bleed. 

But here’s the thing, the universe is patient. It waits for you heal — until it happens. Until you summon the curiosity and awareness to open your eyes. And by then? The pain, regret and rage that had been trapped underneath your breastbone quiets; reimagining itself as a hopeful determination to smile and fall in love again. 

Clarke remembers laying in a field of gold once — with buttercup flowers everywhere. Finn had been her best friend and the boy that she would marry. She recalls playing chase and being far too addicted to the act of ruffling his messy brown hair. In that scene, Finn had spoken of god, fate and previous lives. The seven year old boy had seemed almost weathered as he recounted stories that were just a little too detailed to be made up. Naive in a way she wouldn’t be again, Clarke had laughed and brushed it off. She tells him that she would never leave him, in any lifetime. 

And then it happens.

Three years down the track, a young orphan stumbles into the boundaries of the town. It’s a girl. She’s tall, gangly and endlessly brooding. Clarke can’t breathe as she looks to Finn… 

And Finn — who tries his best to be supportive, is crying as he runs all the way home and, Clarke just wonders how he knew…

The cycle continues all the time. There’s no hard and fast rule; no law of averages. Costia thinks that she’s been given a gift over the others. Early on, she realises that somehow she can see the gold threads that bind them together. She starts to believe that she knows how to avoid the destruction that Finn had always thrown himself into. And for the most part, the threads stay the same. The one connecting Clarke and Finn is always taut, strained and unforgiving towards the slightest tug. In comparison, Costia’s link to Lexa, is lengthy and perhaps a little too lax. There’s too much freedom to roam, that so often they lose sight of each other in the forest of distracting events. And then there’s Clarke and Lexa. Their string is cut so many times, in so many different lengths and places. However, Costia supposes that the most interesting part is that at each disconnect, Clarke and Lexa’s thread has also been stubbornly re-tied together. Their connection, remains as a mess of continuous knots — steady and dependable.

In her weakest moments, Costia will confess that she’s terrified by the infinite number of endings that remain. She’ll admit that her involvement with Lexa has always appeared to run on borrowed time. The idea of Lexa and herself only exists during the pockets and lulls when Clarke is waylaid or lost. So, it’s with a sense of resignation that Costia marvels about the intricacies of their existences. She thinks that she’s a core subject that Lexa must learn whilst Clarke is that impulsive elective that surprises you and makes you want to change your trajectory. 

College had been an interesting one —or really ‘set of ones.’ 

There’s UCLA, where Lexa is a childhood friend and partner at every milestone. They plant flowers, laugh and steal kisses underneath a large oak tree. But, Costia has never seen Lexa so troubled as to when the brunette stumbles into their dorm room at 9AM; guilty and pleading for forgiveness. Lexa had been sent out for bagels and coffee as per their morning routine. Lexa had waited in line. And — Lexa had met the new blonde barista working behind the counter; an artist and a premed student. A meeting was all it was… but Costia hadn’t known how to grant absolution for an inevitability, and the future dissolution of their relationship. 

Then, there is Harvard. There, Costia is RA; bored and desperate for a change. Lexa is a freshman; witty and oh-so-determined to be only quietly amused. It’s sparks and fireworks spanning torts, ethics and over enthusiastic mock trials. It’s then that Costia starts to wonder if this is one of their happier endings… But months later, she gets a call from the hospital. Lexa had been a little reckless on her motorcycle. She’s fine but she needs to be picked up. And under temperamental harsh fluorescent lights, Lexa’s patched up by an intern in the emergency room. When Costia arrives, the curtain is half closed. She can’t see the treating doctor but she hears the lightness in her girlfriend’s drug-induced laughter. And, opening the door a little more, she sees the affection and trust bleeding through Lexa’s gaze. So, respectfully, Costia bows out.

Neither lives had worked out. However, at twenty-six years of age, in New York City, there’s a moment where Costia can’t help but ignore all the signs. They’re in a delivery room, and Lexa is clutching her hand as they pace their breaths. In-In-Out. In-In-Out. There’s pain. Costia thinks she’s going to faint. It’s a boy — Aden. And as she gains the strength to sit up, Lexa holds their child protectively in her arms. The brunette whispers love and confidence into her sweat matted hair. So right then, Costia crosses her fingers and prays. Despite the very idea of Clarke lingering at the back of her mind, Costia thinks that, this time, Lexa belongs with her. 

Please —she thinks: let her be right. Let her be right this time…

Lexa, on the other hand, is different. She’s accepted that life is unpredictable, harrowing and full of lessons. So perhaps, all she is tasked to do, is to be her best — to be present, as the universe moulds her into someone respectable: someone worthy… Most times, she is cognisant. The mantra ‘death is not the end’ seems as etched into her bones as the damage to her rotator cuff. Too much swinging of a sword maybe. Or, an old recurring injury — the cost of pulling someone out of a fire. Still, she possesses a sense of purpose as if she had been given her a list of things to tick off before it’s all over. So with each attempt, she grows and changes. Lexa carries with her the imprints of her successes, failures and most important people —Costia…and Clarke. 

She really has no idea how it all ends, but the start is always the same. There’s a fluttering in her chest and a flexing of her hand. She takes a moment, and then, she’s ready.

And so it continues. 

The world is plunged into black…

Here’s how it goes, Costia meets Lexa, They fall in love. It’s simple and it’s easy, but they spend far too much time in their heads. They spend far too much time fortifying a dam that they only suspect will break.

There’s a prickling at the back of their necks….

Here’s how it goes, Finn meets Clarke. They fall in love. They’re devoted, but inescapable circumstances force a change in character. And, life is never the same after.

Their memories shift…

And here’s how it goes, Clarke meets Lexa. They fall in love. It is a constant endeavour as they teach each other emotions on a backdrop of war, tragedy and self-discovery.

So, they take a deep breath. They open their eyes, courageous in the notion that they might just be made for this — eager to fall again.


	2. Mercury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably no one reading this but I'd thought I'd still publish it. Be productive this year and all! But to anyone that is still reading - please enjoy.  
> Would probably always recommend listening to the songs whilst reading

In the summer of ’45, three months after the end of the second world war - the world first begins to show the first signs of healing.

Clarke is a nurse at Archerfield Military Hospital in Australia working under a critical mother and an indigenous man named Jaha, the oddball chief of medicine.

There’s a sweltering heat as malfunctioning fans struggle to redistribute the warm air and the hospital’s ice box gets works in overdrive. In a rare moment of peace, Clarke manages to slip away to the roof. She lies on the gravel, staring at the canvas of wispy clouds and an all too innocent shade of blue. It’s grounding, because often when her eyes are closed, there’s the image of torn skies decorated by instruments designed to hurt. However, before she can lose herself further, she’s interrupted by the sounds of an approaching aircraft.

_Ah yes, another one…_ And it’s one of the few good things to come out of the aftermath —the return of captured soldiers as the worlds governments work towards some notion of peace and justice.

When Clarke meets her, Lexa is Alex, short for Alexander — all vestiges of her gender hidden by an emaciated frame and a dirtied uniform. _Lexa_ , is a comatose mystery. But Alexander?

_Alexander_ is an infantry soldier, the model example of courage and sacrifice, There is a story in the honourable discharge letter that accompanies her. It speaks of a tenacity that prompts a twenty year old to enter the military and brave enemy territory. It also speaks of the sentinel action of delivering an emergency communique that would eventually lead the country to find her injured team. So, one by one eight young men make their way to her bedside. And when the powerful men in suits come with accusations of gender misrepresentation and illegal combat; one by one, they stand and say _Alexander is Alex —and, Alex is a hero._ In the end, Alex’s bravery had landed her in a prison camp that later bears the brunt of the bombings. And, with the return of broken bodies from the war, Abbey can’t help but make a comment to the spirited nature of youth as she hands Clarke the file.

Clarke on the other hand, simply tries to imagine what it was that the young girl had gone through so much to protect. After all, there had been no mentions of friends, family or next of kin.

Lexa, on the other hand, meets Clarke as she’s wandering down the streets of Archerfield late at night in her mind. She drifts by rows of houses, ghosting her fingers on the red brick. Most are dark, already retired for the night. But, there are a rare few; silhouettes of families gathered in gratitude around a tinny radio. She finds herself smiling as the streetlights flicker around her, almost in a ‘hello.

It’s _then_ that she meets Clarke. Well really, when she _hears_ Clarke. The blonde is constant jokes and tangential chatter as she sets up the beeping machines and inserts the IV needle.

_It doesn’t hurt, you know._

Lexa registers the pressure, but pain is a sensation that has long since become abstract. Coma and ‘Comatose _’_. Lexa has heard those words thrown around a lot in the in the last couple of days. However what she can stay is that the pronunciation of the the letters does nothing to inform you of what it might actually mean.

_Still_ , she’ll try to explain.

Sounds wise — everything is crisp. For example, Lexa knows that there is a god awful crow that loves her window sill in the late afternoon. And that, after the second week, she is almost soothed by the whirring of the devices that keep her alive and tethered to this existence. But, _vision_ is a different story. It’s a mosaic of light and dark in varying speeds and contrasts. It’s not a prison. _That_ , Lexa feels, is an important distinction — because, she could escape a prison. She would want to fight those guards. No, instead her coma is a suspension, a chance to review her actions as her edges begin to blur and awareness drains away.

This is how it always is — the process of losing yourself and visitation the blank slate as the universe prepares for your next foray.

She’s already forgotten what her father looks like. _Gustus_. The facts say that he’s tall, intimidating and with a beard obscuring the thickness of his neck.

She’s barely recalls the orphanage. The rally of starving children, organised in some self-imposed hierarchy. They used to look at her as if she could make laws. In their games of make believe she there had been enthusiastic adulations of “ _Commander, what should we do next.”_ At the age of seven, Lexa hadn’t wanted that sort of responsibility and protection came in the form of a caustic older girl. She’s not sure but the name Anya floats in and out. It’s a mess that she has trouble deciphering.

And, even now she hears the names that everyone calls her — Private Alexander James. She can still feel the weight of the gun slung across her back. But, Lexa doesn’t remember how or why? How did she end up in the frontline instead of a communications depot? And why did she think that she would be the one tasked with the fight?

In the end, it is the discrepancies and oddities that scratch at her consciousness. The fear of _not knowing and not understanding,_ acts like a pacemaker as desperation and confusion pushes her organs to work a little longer. She thinks that if she could just fill the outline in her head then she would be alright with starting over.

So, she recites what she knows to be true. Her name is Alexandra James. She was born in Sydney Australia. She grew up in the orphanage just outside of town. She was a leader, a soldier.

Again and again, the facts are a constant loop. They persist hoping for illumination, some clue or explanation for the current trajectory and character. 

At first, listening to Clarke is a distraction. The blonde seems to be a constant trial on Lexa’s tired patience as Clarke seems to find interest and excitement in everything and anything. Lexa thinks that for someone unconscious, she now knew far too much about the methods of setting up medical emergency trolleys and the difficulties in maintaining a detente with a pain in the arse janitor by the name of Murphy. But months pass by, and with time, Clarke becomes not only a fixture in her life but ‘real’ in a way that Lexa’s mind would pay any cost to touch.

So, Lexa tries. She tries to command her limbs to act. And it’s harder in this state. It’s a blow when Clarke’s voice doesn’t pause in an excited surprise because then it means that Lexa hasn’t succeeded. And in her acute failure, Lexa wishes that the blonde would stop _trying_. That is just a small part though. The greater part of her heart remains content, and dare she say happy, to continue to listen. She learns that Clarke is the daughter of two great characters; one who heals and one who creates. Lexa thinks that it makes sense because Clarke retains both those qualities — strangely able to pull together the fragments of Lexa’s floating consciousness to _change_ Lexa’s intentions. For once, Lexa isn’t in a hurry to return to the abyss.

It’s like time-travel and science fiction as Lexa lives through Clarke’s childhood. By the grace of Clarke’s descriptors, Lexa is _there_ at Clarke’s first tree climb and subsequent broken arm. She’s running after the gleeful blonde as Clarke learns how to race on two wheels. And Lexa is guarding Clarke’s crying form during her first heartbreak. It seems ridiculous to be mad at a five year old boy but Lexa finds herself itching to tell Finn that Clarke did not have ‘cooties’ and that he would only be so lucky to play pirates and aliens with her. The problem with medicine is that whilst it tries to save people — in the end, it is just a temporary stay of the future.

The pull is getting stronger and Lexa can feel the gravity of another thread. _Someone else_ , that is familiar, already so patient in their wait for her, as they get ready embark on their next existence. There’s nothing but kindness and care extended to her, as the soothing presence tries to reason with her mind. She thinks that she sees the hand that’s placed over hers trying to help her loosen her grip. Lexa feels herself falter and that’s the beginning of the beeping.

Lexa feels the change in the air of frantic actions, a crowd of people with cold metal and Clarke’s _panic_. There’s talk of a struggling heart beat. There’s an implication that the machines aren’t enough anymore. And there’s an uncertainty as Lexa feels the physicality of dissociating as her spirit becomes more removed. The problem is that Lexa has never felt so attached to a lifetime. And she doesn’t know how to choose.

_Keep clear. 250 Joules. STAT._

Lexa registers every muscle contract as the electricity travels forcing her back to arch of the bed and for a moment, she’s snapped back into place. For just a second, Clarke’s emotive plea to hold on is clear.

_Give her the adrenaline. Alex! Stay with us._

And goddamn it — Lexa has never been able to deny Clarke anything. Somewhere in the recesses of her soul, _that_ remains a truth that is screamed and adhered to. So, Lexa puts on the armour and tries to fight again. She tries to follow the echoing voice back. She’s trying to get back to the point where Clarke tells her about the lavender trees overgrown on the front grounds and the guinea pig that she’s hiding from the hospital staff.

_Hang on we have a rhythm. V-Tach. Shit!_

_Increase it to 320 Joules._

Clarke’s voice is suddenly close and far away again. There’s a weight on her chest and Lexa can feel the rough intermittent pressure as there are counts of thirty and two. Clarke’s hands lay over her sternum and there’s movement in time with the lagging pace of her tired heart. It’s a cycle as the outside watches Alexander’s breathing stop and start. It’s a dropping pin, as the pattern on the cardiac machine flickers between _something_ and a flatline.

Lexa is running on a seemingly endless path. She knows that she can remain. She knows it, just as well as she knows the feeling of love and sorrow coming from the other end of the thread that exists in her consciousness. The one that is guiding her in a new direction; away from this darkness and away from Clarke. _Costia._

_Costia —_ who remains Lexa’s partner in every journey and noble in her ability to forgive and understand. And in the end, Lexa pauses. Because whilst she is willing to pay the price of her soul, she cannot make that same decision for someone else. So, she loosens her hold.

_Clarke. Stop. It’s too late. The bullet fragments have pushed their way to her heart._

Lexa didn’t say it before. She should have. In the explosion, fragments of the metal explosive had embedded themselves into her back. The sharpest of which, piercing skin, fat and sinew to find home on blood vessels and the walls of her heart. And in the end, the cost of life and blood flow meant that those fragments would be dislodged, certain in the concept that Lexa would not belong in this lifetime.

_Clarke stop!_

_I’m sorry._

And as Lexa feels the ground shift, she tries to apologise…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was good. It was what I had pictured when I first heard Mercury. Always happy to hear thoughts!


	3. Venus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was actually one of the favourite chapters I've written. I remembered being in a weird funk but when I heard Venus - this story came instantly.

Communication is rarely, if ever, the problem. For most of their realities, Clarke and Lexa have managed an understanding — the ability share the mess of their hearts and minds. However, there’s one lifetime when it is harder than others, and Lexa thinks that this might have been the _hardest_ one.

Here, she is 32 years old. She is an astronomer, a scientist and pragmatic in all the ways that she usually is but it’s not enough. Because in this life — she isn’t a leader. She isn’t eloquent. And there’s no safety in the mind.

Autism Spectrum disorder is the label that’s given when she’s four years old and there’s an ache in her vocal cords from all the screaming; because lights are too bright, sounds are too loud and her foster sister touches her without warning. Whereas, high functioning is the amendment that the psychiatrists make when she does well on all metrics of testing and the universe appears to have given her the gift of intelligence. Except it isn’t a gift. Not really. In the end, intelligence is the greater cage because she hates how she gets people _all wrong._ Lexa is powerless when she gets gets trapped in a cycle of the same words which mean nothing. ‘ _Living not than_ surviving.’ Echolia is the clinical term.

Still — the days remain the same. She gets up. She dons her pressed oxford and meticulously ironed pants. She ties her shoes, but always on the right side of the bed. _Never_ the left. Lexa wishes that she could explain why. It’s two loops around the rabbit hole and then a tie at both ends. Breakfast is a hard boiled egg and a slice of rye. Strong tastes are always bad, setting her skin on fire. And then, its off the work. Her parents have long since passed away leaving her their tenured position at the observatory. It’s quiet. She’s got an office in the back that no one ever visits and Lexa’s had a long time to convince herself that it’s perfect when it’s just her, the night sky and the consistent buzzing of the fluorescent lights. She often tries imagine the freedom that exists behind closed eyes.

So, that’s why it’s a punch to the stomach when it happens.

She’s fiddling with the dials of the telescope when Clarke stumbles in at 3AM sweaty, dishevelled and with that _same_ contradictory broken grin. Clarke has an earphone in one ear and holds up a bag of take out like a peace treaty. It’s the best and worst thing as Lexa’s heart stalls, starts and panics. Clarke talks of being sorry about interrupting Lexa’s alone time and of how her mother had sent her over with leftovers from their dinner for the hard-working recluse who works nights. Clarke is soft in her delivery, as an underserved fondness bleeds already from her eyes.

_But it’s all wrong_.

The strong aroma of the Thai food hits Lexa’s nose as that familiar distress takes control over her body. Everything feels _activated_ as her muscles clench and unclench in a manner that feels like it’s tearing out of her skin. She’s aware of her surroundings and Clarke’s concerned tones, but she not present. Not really. Not in anyway that she has control over. Her legs take her pacing. Her eyes are tight closed as she tries to shut out _everything_ — because, too much is happening at once. Her fluttering chest and the smell of the food. She can’t do two. She can barely even do one. So she does what she can. She’s counting the steps and it’s the only thing that makes any _sense_. Five steps to the desk and then it’s ten to the balcony… Her hand taps out a pattern and a rhythm against her head and Lexa is just trying to not pull out her hair. She has enough bald patches already.

Clarke is…

Clarke is Clarke. And perhaps, in any other time that would have been enough to snap Lexa into attention and into _love_. For, as much as Lexa feels that elation in her soul at the sight of the blonde, _in the present time_ — it feels more like more of an attack on her systems. And, if she being honest, Lexa had convinced herself that she wouldn’t meet Clarke in this lifetime, but more importantly that _she didn’t want to_. Because, to have that chance to meet Clarke only to push her away? That’s a punishment that Lexa has never been strong enough to endure.

Clarke’s blue eyes are endless. In the dark of the night, it’s navy specks against the dancing of the lights and Lexa thinks that she can see the galaxies reflected in them. Mentally, she following the constellations that seem to explode from Clarke’s very presence. And while Lexa has never understood the notion of angels, the halo glow of Clarke’s blonde hair is more than disarming. But she _cannot_ reach out.

Lexa remains trapped and helpless. It _fucking_ horrifies her when Clarke takes those steps forward and tries to help. Proximity never helps. Lexa knows. Everyone has tried; between Anya, Gustus and even Costia. It always ends the same. Lexa ends up locking herself in the machinations in her mind as she instinctively tries to get away, folding herself into a corner of the room. The solid nature of the wall behind her back makes her feel safe and she’s wonders if she’ll feel the pain in her vocal cords in the morning as she screams, as she throws things at Clarke to make her go _away_ , until Clarke shrinks back — realising the trouble of this existence.

The knowledge and the signs sink in, and Lexa is hitting herself in the head as the empathetic exclamation escapes ‘ _oh Lexa, I’m sorry.’_ But Lexa doesn’t have the ability to console, to tell Clarke that it’s alright, it’s not her fault and that she’s _sorry too…_

The days change ever after. Clarke leaves Lexa to calm herself down that night with the understanding that _this isn’t the end_. Because, Clarke will always show up. Clarke visits every day with her textbooks from medical school and boundless anecdotes of friends by the name of Raven and Finn. And, Clarke always makes sure that she's at least 6 feet away. Lexa hates Clarke for being so brave because even with those concessions, sometimes Clarke still ends up with scratches and bruises on her frame from the moments where Lexa _can’t_ regulate... and the world is too vivid and intrusive. It's the moments where there is no choice but for physical restraint or Lexa will hurt herself. And it's _those_ moments that kill the both of them because it’s the closest they come and the most distant they feel.

However, stubbornness remains the sticking point. Because five years later, when Clarke has graduated medical school and is a doctor at one of the most dangerous emergency departments in the country — she still comes _home_. At that same 3AM, fatigued and in her well worn scrubs, she still barrels into Lexa’s solitude with that weathered grin, only this time, with the offer of plain rice and steamed chicken breast. And they eat at opposite sides of the room but sometimes Clarke catches Lexa’s staring and there’s just a second where Lexa is pulled into focus. They’re both crystal clear in each other’s mind and they’re both here, _together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully, I did manage to catch some aspects of autism correctly. Don't mean to offend.


	4. Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should preface and say that I stopped watching the 100 after season 3 so if any storylines seems familiar it's probably by accident  
> When I wrote this story I always knew I wanted this to be one of the narratives - it makes sense Wanheda, and the what if of it all

The thing with time and these cycles, is time isn’t linear or… at least, their experience of it isn’t. Clarke remembers existences where she’s in a time of rockets only to be returned to a time before women’s suffrage in the next. And for the most part, Clarke prefers the remembering, the _knowing_ because then they wouldn’t loose themselves drowning in the spaces between. That being said, there is one that’s she’d like to forget.

It’s the one that challenges everything they know about accountability, and Clarke thinks that she just might have committed something _unforgivable_.

At twenty eight years of age, Clarke and Lexa are both military scientists playing with fire, under the guise of saving the world. They’re recruited out of Harvard and MIT respectively in the second year of college. With never seen before test scores and impressive accolades from their lecturers — the government decides that they can make use these two diamonds in the rough. So, Clarke is twenty when she first meets Lexa. Competitive at best, and arrogant at worst, the clash of personalities sparks passion and innovative design as they quickly establish their excellence against their older mentors and counterparts. The thrill of science is consuming, and they’re so young _that they don’t quite realise their prison_. Instead, they hold tight onto the belief that they’re going to be the ones to succeed with quantum mechanics, to save what’s left of the planet. After all, with the geo-storms, acid rain and famine ravaging the world — the only other alternative appears to be joining the privileged few that have secured themselves tickets on the new space-station. Clarke still rolls her eyes at it — humanity’s last attempt at a time capsule and survival.

They continue on. The first few years is nothing. But a decade becomes the tipping point.

So, Clarke is fiddling with the locking mechanism of the device’s shielding when the whole facility shakes. Lexa looks up from her calculations in shared frustration. She hates the earthquakes that serves to be nature’s countdown time of their remaining time. Still, her annoyance pales when she looks up and sees Clarke’s wasted morning. The locking mechanism had fallen apart during the event and its times like these that Lexa sees _just_ how much Clarke is hanging on by a thread. The blonde has lost everyone. Raven, who died under a falling beam 18 months ago. Finn, who remains permanently angry and disabled from his exposure in the radioactive zone. And, Octavia who gave her life, sealing the doors of this facility in the last aerial assault.

Whereas — at least Lexa has Costia.

Costia, who remains sweet, loyal and steadfast. And perhaps most importantly, Costia, who pretends like she doesn’t notice that the farther they’ve gotten down this rabbit hole of invention, _that she’s losing Lexa_. And, there’s no injustice. There’s not even a crime because Costia knows that she’s still _important_. She knows it, like how she knows how it feels to have Lexa curled around her at night in desperation. Costia knows it, like how she can map out a past and future by the scars on Lexa’s back.

But here’s the thing — Clarke is Clarke.

And in the end what that means is that, Costia is helpless as she watches the change of heart occur. She watches as at first, Clarke and Lexa tear each other apart, clashing from all directions from intelligence to ethics. It’s electric. It’s drives their interactions and morphs with time to become respect. So, it’s slow. Eventually, there comes a day where Lexa returns to their bunk without any complaints about her problematic colleague. Soon after there are grudging compliments. And down the line there is a frantic call to Costia from the infirmary, where the vivid imagery is still seared into her mind — Lexa with her back torn open from a blast covering Clarke’s obviously broken frame. Costia never asks Lexa why. It’s probably apt to say that Lexa might not really know. However in the long rehab days after, Costia wonders if that fondness that enters her fiancé’s eyes is really just a trick of the light.

And it’s four years later, that Costia realises that a bond borne out of desperation is no less valid. Because, four years later — _the world gives up_. The space stations have been launched, already functional specks in the sky. All the personnel have long since vacated the military base, cashing in their tickets to survive. Clarke, Lexa and Costia are the only people who remain. The isolation changes them.

Clarke becomes an obsessive recluse, rigid in her need for their sacrifices mean something. She needs to save the remaining billions of people deserted on this planet. Lexa, on the other hand has no such compunction. With the pain that still litters her back, she just wants to stop, and figure out a life that’s more than this, _more than just surviving_. And perhaps, somewhere in her mind she _does_ need Clarke to be a part of that. It might be Stockholm's syndrome but Lexa has come to depend on Clarke’s exasperated sighs and snowballing rants. And when she’s there handing the blonde a cup of recycled coffee grounds from her secret stash, Clarke for a moment seems a little less weathered.

_So Lexa_ stays… And Costia learns to look after them both — learns to _love_ them both.

So perhaps, that’s why it’s such a mess of their hearts when Clarke finally does it.

One day Clarke _finishes_. With nothing but silences, a stern gaze and shaking hands — the blonde delivers the makeshift device to transporter and drives it out to what left of their solar energy field. It’s now nothing but a deep crevice, where the last of the earth’s tectonic plates have crashed into each other. Clarke powers the thing on and just looks up. Sky blues meet horrified greens and Costia and Lexa are _frozen_. They’re not without their wits. They _knew_ that somewhere down the line, Clarke hadn’t been working to create anymore. And now, seeing that same innocent technology incorporated in something that is so decidedly destructive…

Well, Lexa becomes that little more defeated and — Costia finally learns how to walk away. There’s nothing left to love because she’s seen too much destruction in both their eyes.

Crack!

The earth trembles below them like a warning but Clarke holds her stance. She cuts a striking picture of heroism against the backdrop of nature’s angry background and it’s enough to take Lexa’s breath away. _It always is_. The winds pick up, whistling and whipping their hair against their faces. It’s life in slow motion as Clarke sets the countdown. Five minutes.

For a second, Clarke wonders if she should explain — _that this isn’t giving up, but starting anew!_ Because — at some point in this long running story, Clarke had realised that the question wasn’t whether or not humanity would survive this, but whether they _should_ …

For it’s been clear that the earth has always been the helpless victim to parasitic race. Clarke remembers the childhood history lessons about centuries of worth greed, selfishness and hate — bubbling and raping the world’s until there’s nothing left. And as the timer continues to count down, Clarke thinks that this might finally be a chance at redemption — to clear the debt and reset the scales. Tears stream down her face and Clarke looks up at Lexa. It’s wrong and unfair, but for some reason she’s still trying to find absolution for the crime that she is about to commit.

The evacuation sirens howl in line with unforgiving winds. And whilst Lexa is in no place to grant anything, she _understands why_. She can see that this life has eroded all that Clarke is — kindness, compassion and pragmatism. Hard decisions have forced apathy — and this, right now, might be the only action left to save the blonde’s soul. 

So, her hand covers Clarke’s on the final trigger. Lexa can’t help but marvel at how they fit - both dirty, bloodied and broken. In such close proximity, it’s the first time in a while where the cage of their chests loosens enough to really breathe. _It’s not love —_ but they feel it in their bones regardless. They are still beholden to the gravity that keeps the fragments of lives together. Clarke opens her mouth to speak. Nothing but a hoarse cry escapes and Lexa just shakes her head gently; leaning their foreheads together. In — out — and _flip…_

They release the switch…

It’s funny because when you’re in the eye of the blast you don’t really hear the explosion. You don’t even feel it. The sensation is a lot like falling as Clarke and Lexa’s consciousness begins to dull and lose form. The landscape fades and they only catch snippets of what happens next.

The sonic blast from the explosion reverberates in the form of rippling earthquakes. Ice caps crack and tumble. Volcanos erupt, and tsunamis of boiling seas invade cities that has been long since abandoned. People whom had not paid for survival on the space stations huddle in their bunkers, praying to their gods, any god…

Some survive, but the majority doesn’t.

It’s another few centuries as the earth terraforms — and a whole world begins anew.

As she fades out, Clarke’s last thought is that she finally understands Oppenheimer — _she’s become death, the destroyer of worlds…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	5. Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A study of Costia and Finn and how they love

The in between moments are always a haze. There’s no conscious appreciation of anything, but somewhere and somehow, it’s like watching an endless symphony as all the small pieces that makes a person learns to come together once again to form an entity — to form themselves. And perhaps — it really is true that the last life fractured their souls; because Clarke and Lexa don’t progress. Or at least it takes them while…

The universe is not a parent. It doesn’t seek to punish and reinforce any sort of message. So Clarke and Lexa’s holding time, is not intentional. It only serves to give them the opportunity to repair their fault lines; to reintegrate the parts of themselves that were so forcefully thrown apart by the anger, explosions and despair. Because, it takes decades for Lexa’s sense of justice to reconcile with her collective self. And Clarke languishes for centuries as her empathy remains out of reach. They’re not yet ready to begin again, so they wait, and trust in the threads that keep everything together.

Costia and Finn continue on without them in the meantime.

When Costia opens her eyes its 1980. She comes from a close-knit middle class family and still resides in the small town that she grew up in a little way outside of Alabama. Her little cottage is surrounded by a lovingly curated garden that is the envy of her neighbours. And because, Costia has never been ambitious by any description she offers her roses to any persons that drop by and delivers the rest of her lilies to the nearby hospice, hoping to bring a smile to the wizened people that came before.

The day she meets Finn starts out like any other. She’s driving two hours to the local kindergarten that she works at and for the first time in a while, feels a tug in her stomach as she passes Earl’s Cafe. Looking at her watch, she knows that she has more than enough time to make a pitstop and can’t help but be curious. For Costia has always found comfort in letting life guide her actions, to follow the thread, instead of tugging so insistently on it. She bumps into a sturdy frame as she opens the door and lean0muscled arms gently encase her, preventing her fall.

Finn is boyish, in his construction gear. He has laughter in his eyes and a mischievous smile. They don’t know each other and from the outside looking in you wouldn’t expect the interaction to go any further. But here’s the thing, both in their thirties, maybe they’re still searching for something in their lives, a spark of sorts. And more than likely they recognise the signs in each other, that familiarity of shared pasts and ever present yearning for the people that they’re missing. So it’s easy, as they fall into a new rhythm. Costia buys him a biscotti and a new coffee and Finn insists of reimbursing her with time and some conversation. Costia speaks of her students, both the rewarding and the extremely frustrating. Finn finds the antics described hilarious as he offers to come by her house later to help her with the persistent leak in her sink plumbing. They get to know the ins and outs of each other and decide that the chance meeting helped fill the emptiness that they can’t figure out in themselves. So they become friends, the best of sorts actually.

Costia is the ‘best man’ at Finn’s wedding whom just happens to be to a teacher that she works with at the local school. It’s a small get-together because Finn’s not one for dramatics but it’s wonderful and untainted event as for once, this piece of _happy_ comes without strings.

Finn is the godfather to Costia’s adopted daughter. He’s the guard that stood vigil, holding her crying frame to his, when she first finds out that she can’t have children. He’s there for every horrific miscarriage along the way and would give anything, everything for her to catch a break. So, when she thinks about caring for someone that was still looking for a home, Finn paves the way. He researches all the agencies and sits through all the meetings until Costia comes home with young Lucy. And after his wife, they’re the most important women in his life.

They go through it all together. Finn learns every knot and tie in the girl scout handbook and becomes quite adept at helping Lucy sell her cookies. Despite Costia’s modest income and inheritance, she the first to invest in Finn’s own construction company. It’s nights with pizza, beer and an empty base of operations as she listens to Finn speak about his dreams and grand designs. Her investment triples in value when they get the business off the ground but Finn still has the first hundred that she ever lent him, framed in his office.

So it’s a good life. They’re seventy years old still sharing beers on the porch of Costia’s Alabama homestead when things shift again. Finn’s wife is in the sunroom teasing Lucy about her latest partner as star-gazing is an activity that Finn and Costia almost regard as tradition. Both eyes track up at the sky, letting the vastness wash over them bringing them closer to calm. It feels like forever as the evening fades completely into night with two sets of eyes look up, searching for their northern lights. And Finn is so excitable when he sees it. He resembles a puppy as he shakes Costia urgently until she’s almost ready to slap him, until she finally registers ‘what’ he is pointing to…

There it is. Two shooting stars on their way down…

Costia looks to Finn. There are crinkles around their eyes as they let out a breath. Relieved laughter follows until any semblance of tension disappears and they fall asleep in their chairs with their hands clasped together and smiles on their faces.

It’s once again time. They’re ready for what might happen next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet. But I think the last life did fracture Lexa and Clarke and their spirits weren't ready to move on.


	6. Mars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for PTSD, self harm, war-themes

Next, the four of them grow up in a small town.

They’re their own little unit, and the townspeople all say that you wouldn’t know where one of them began and the other ended. From the age of five — they’re bound by promises made in Clarke’s treehouse and the shared scrapes from when Finn convinced them all to go tobogganing in the snow. Costia’s artwork is framed on each of their bedroom walls because they’re all so sure that one day it would be worth something. And, Lexa’s always been everyone’s nighttime confidant during the long nights on a futon in each of their bedrooms because they all worry when her foster parents get too violent.

Their senior year is the last time they remember being carefree and happy. Finn is the team quarterback. He brave and quick — a natural leader as he takes his team to the state championships. Clarke remains his guiding light and their relationship helps frame the definition of a strong and loyal love. It didn’t come easy, and perhaps because of the strength of their characters, it almost didn’t come at all. But everyone can recount the memory of Finn shielding Clarke from the path of an oncoming car in their junior year. And when asked why, the boy whom was already so enamoured, simply said that Clarke potential was worth more than anything.

Unlike their friends, Costia and Lexa prefer the background. They’ve always been strangely uncomplicated as Costia kisses Lexa in an emboldened moment when they’re thirteen and neither of them look back. Costia, is whom Lexa trusts when her foster world becomes too messy and the ground starts to shake. The four of them have grand designs; with plans to go to the same college, become roommates and discover the rest of adulthood together.

So, they don’t see it coming when things change. It’s sometime following 9/11, as army recruiters come to the school and start their campaigns. Men in uniform identify those with potential and extoll on the virtues of bravery, restitution and honour. And perhaps it’s their academic records or stories told by their teachers, but Clarke and Lexa become the focus over the crowd. Time is spent around negotiating incentives. The military say that they will pay for Clarke’s medical aspirations. and that they could provide the basic training to be an on field medic. Whilst with Lexa, it’s more about the lure of a way out of the unfortunate upbringing that she’s so trapped in — and the offer a constructive way to make use of the anger in her heart.

The military is an animal that neither Clarke or Lexa would have ever considered. They don’t believe in violence. However as the media becomes increasingly saturated with vivid imagery of the destruction of caused by IEDs, proclaimed rhetoric of suicide bombers and coffins of dead soldiers returning to broken families — the two young women feels a tug at their core. They’re reminded of a long forgotten sense of responsibility and integrity that is carved into the building block of their souls. So they bow their heads and they say yes. Against the judgement of their family and friends, they sign on the dotted line and leave their innocence behind.

Blue eyes meet green and an understanding is shared… Lexa doesn’t say much, but she’s clasping Clarke’s hand every time they deploy. And as battlefield changes them in ways that seem unredeemable, ‘ _that’ —_ remains a constant in their lives.

The damage doesn’t happen all at once. Instead it’s more insidious and cumulative. So, for a long time the only people that notice are Finn and Costia. The first tour is actually alright. Clarke and Lexa send word about the sand in their boots, the rules around new deployment rules and the mix of locals that exist. Thankfully, because of their inexperience and their station, they’re allowed time to adjust. At the beginning, Costia is a nervous wreck, but she still trusts in a government and a military that is driven to guard and protect. She believes like most people do, that that’s what happens on the frontline. Finn on the other hand learns to accept that it has never been his role has never been to restrain Clarke. It’s a slow lesson but he decides that he’d rather thrive in what light she could spare than be burned by obstructing her path. So he focusses his energy on building a house and home that would be deserving of Clarke. He hopes that one day with enough work, it’ll be something that Clarke won’t want to leave behind.

War is not what either girl expects. Bright eyed and idealistic, they’re almost bored by the hours spend wandering on patrols, with only the company of desert rodents and lizards. Still, it provides them time to pry and glean the details of each other’s minds. Despite having always been friends, perhaps subconsciously, there has always been a slight distance afforded by the differences in their socioeconomic post code. So, as trust builds with each flirtation with firefight and the thundering of nearby bombs — Lexa learns the story behind the wristwatch that Clarke carries in her vest and the hidden talent that the blonde is to embarrassed to display. Clarke needn’t feel like that, because Lexa’s breath is taken away by the sketches. But then again, Lexa also doesn’t have words to soothe, for when Clarke just looks at her sadly and admits that her artwork _doesn’t really compare._ For Clarke’s always felt far too self conscious next to the talents of Costia. And as they’re dismantling firearms and sparring on training mats, the blonde begins to discover that there’s a terrifying storm that brews beneath Lexa’s calm veneer.

Lexa — ever the slave to her tendency to protect others, has always had to contain the sharp edges of her emotions so it doesn’t tear through all that she tries to build. Because with each transfer to a new foster home, each glass bottle drunkenly thrown at her head and each time she’s waived away her own concerns for the sake of another; the rage in her heart is sharpened until the head stops hurting and it’s no longer something that makes her weak. So, it’s feels like a brave new world, as they huddle around the campfire. There’s a film of tears in Lexa’s eyes and Clark can’t help but ask if Costia is someone that helps, someone that _understands…_

The troubled girl simply turns to look away. Clarke’s all but given up on a reply when Lexa does answer. Sighing deeply, Lexa tries to explain that Costia is someone whom desperately wants to accepts the darkness, but ultimately has never been meant for it. With a sense of frustrated fondness, Lexa hands back Clarke’s muzzle cleaner, whispering that _sometimes survival is all that we have…all that we deserve._ Lexa holds herself like atlas with the weight of the world on her shoulders and, it’s times like these that Clarke wonders if Lexa knows something that she doesn’t.

When they get home the first time, life continues the way it’s always has. Lexa helps Costia set up the art gallery that they’d always planned for and Clarke finds connection and grounding in Finn’s comfortable embrace. It’s a couple of years before the military call them up again, and by then, Clarke’s given birth to a beautiful baby girl - Maddie. The Griffin-Collins clan are the classic American dream and Costia and Lexa are overprotective godparents. Clarke and Lexa never talk about their time abroad because it doesn’t yet factor into their day to day existence. Things are strangely light-hearted and _easy_. So maybe that why the Clarke and Lexa don’t think too hard when their names get drawn up again. They leave with strong backs and a belief in their purpose. At this point they still carry the pride of their families.

War is different the second time. It’s no longer about defending and protecting, and more to do with winning a propaganda war irrespective of the price. That’s the first thing that becomes clear. Clarke and Lexa learn about the cost of doing business the second they land. An explosion goes off before the helicopter carrier doors even have the chance to fully open. Everything is in a disarray as soldiers run desperately to any form of cover. The faces of the medics become ashen as they come to stark realisation that they don’t have the resources to save everyone as their hands are forced into playing god. They’re made to pick who gets a chance to survive.

The girls are separated early. Clarke is ushered into the medical corp tent and spends nearly every waking minute trying to make a difference. Her skin and fatigues have been stained red and she no longer remembers an existence without a metallic taste of blood smothering the air. The blonde feels a little of her fortitude crumble with each struggling breath of the soldiers who pass through. Clarke thinks that she loses everything when she stops asking about the names and families of the men and women that she fails. And by the end of it, the most terrifying aspect is that it becomes easy — to turn down the morphine drips of the dying because they no longer merit the kindness of it.

Lexa, on the other hand, gets fast-tracked into becoming an operator. She’s taught on the fly about sniper rifles, and advanced infiltration techniques. It’s not the extensive training that the military handbook requires, but there’s no one else, and the need for some kind of hero is far too great. So, it’s mission after mission until the playing field becomes closer to fair. But like everything there’s a cost. Lexa finds herself kicking down doors of families, abducting wives and children for the simple reason that they might be linked to the unconscionable men that still drive the need for this fight. Her hands eventually stop shaking as she has the image of young children with guns in her shooting sights. At night, when she can’t sleep and can’t breath, as much as Clarke tries to reassure her that _‘they’re saving lives back home’_ — it’s not enough to make her blind. So Lexa copes the only way she can, she builds partitions within her self until there’s only pieces that she transitions in and out of — the unfeeling, the desperate and the almost innocent.

The months wear them down. Their backs are constantly against the wall and they becomes husks of who they used to be. Guilty minds and heavy hearts prevent them from being able to think about, let alone communicate with the people that they’ve left back home. So it’s slow and gradual as they stop responding and become islands. Clarke thinks that she can’t bear the thought of tainting the life of her daughter. She has _nothing_ left when Finn’s stories of Maddie’s growing up does nothing to change the emptiness of her soul. That’s why she doesn’t notice when the letters start to change in tone, becoming hurt and so _angry,_ as the envelopes are delivered with the stains of spilt whiskey. She forgets that she’s always been Finn’s anchor in a storm.

Lexa loses the ability to speak from all the screaming that happens at night from the ferocity of her dreams. The doctors call it trauma. Lexa doesn’t know what it is when she dreams about a world where she’s a leads a civilisation and Clarke is her hope falling from the skies. She get’s pulled into reality where Costia is dead, and someone that she doesn’t know how to honour anymore.

It’s nearly 3 years before they are sent back home to consolidate and repair, in hopes that there won’t be a next one. However, nobody warns them that just because they leave the battlefield that it doesn’t mean that war leaves them. Being broken happens in stages, getting worse each time. They don’t come home to celebrations or warm relief. When they land, Costia and Maddie waits at the arrival terminal. The once bright and hopeful face of the artist seems taut and tired. There’s still never any malice to her, but it’s a stark example of how none of them are the same. Clarke finds herself pausing when Maddie watches her with cautious consideration. The little girl seems to gaze at her mother with confusion and by now, Clarke has no answers to offer anybody. She doesn’t know how to cross that bridge. So, she doesn’t. She takes her bags and follows Lexa and Costia to the car, wondering about the state of things at home.

When Costia drops Clarke off, there’s a moment where she’s at odds with herself. Costia struggles with the warnings clear in her mind, and her responsibilities to the man that was also left behind. So all she says is ‘ _do not judge Clarke, Finn loves you so much so that he forgets himself.’_ Maddie runs straight to her bedroom and Clarke tries to take in the scene. Empty liquor bottles litter the kitchen area and dishes are stacked in the sink. The house appears mostly forgotten with the exception of a child’s high chair and cutlery set, immaculate and well used. Letting out a slow breathe Clarke begins to unpack. By the late afternoon, there’s a rumbling of a pick up truck as Finn stumbles into the living room.

Just by looking at him, it’s hard to say what’s changed. But it becomes much clearer as the minutes pass by. Finn seems shocked for a moment before quickly schooling his features, nodding to her coolly. He places the six pack in the fridge and stalks away. When Clarke next finds him, it’s after dinner. She quiet, as she watches him prepare Maddie’s favourite meal of mac and cheese. It seems like a practiced and familiar routine as he makes all the whirring sounds of an aeroplane as he deposits the payload in Maddie’s awaiting mouth. Their laughter is light as it permeates the dining room and afterwards Finn takes their daughter to her bedroom, careful to check for monsters in the closet before leaving. Finn says nothing to her the entire time. He simply gives her a grunt as he reaches around Clarke to grab his whiskey. It goes on for what feels like hours as they both lean on opposite sides of the the countertop as Finn hurries to dull the pain of his emotions. It’s Clarke, the girl who he loves. It’s Clarke, the girl who forgot that he needs her too, as much as the world does. He seems about to bridge the distance when Clarke’s mobile goes off.

The blonde hesitates before picking up, _and it’s Lexa on the caller ID_. Costia’s panicked cries come across the line as the sounds of breaking furniture plays in the background.

“Clarke! Please you need to get here right now. Lexa…she’s having an episode or something. Please, I don’t want her to hurt herself!”

Cold washes over her and Clarke doesn’t know how to explain as she grabs the car keys off the counter already halfway through the door. She’s nearly out the driveway when she hears Finn yell out.

“It’s always about her isn’t it…It’s always about this _war_ that you can’t seem to leave?!”

Clarke finds Costia wild with grief as she tries to relay how at one moment Lexa seemed fine but in the next with the sounds of the neighbour’s car backfiring Lexa loses it. The other girl had locked herself in the bedroom, pulling bits of her hair and banging her head against the walls. With the loud banging echoing throughout the house Costia can only wonder what her girlfriend is trying to erase from her memories. Costia can only watch as Clarke kicks open the bedroom door and jumps behind Lexa, grabbing the other girl in a gentle but incapacitating hold. Clarke whispers soothing tones against Lexa’s temple as she rides out every jerk, lashing out and flicker. It’s some mixture between statements of ‘ _it’s ok’_ and ‘ _you promised me survival remember?’_

Turns out, the only survival in the crucible the one that the girls find in each other. It takes most of the night but Lexa eventually passes out in fatigue. Clarke is too wiped to drive and Costia makes a bed for her friend in the spare bedroom. She tries not understand why the moment that Clarke seems to leave the room, Lexa’s nightmares seem to begin again, albeit far less than before.

And so, over the next couple of years, it goes like this. Costia tries but she’s can’t comprehend the darkness in their souls. Costia doesn’t know how to respond to the tortured howls that descends, as Lexa slips into one of the few mental fragments that she still has left. Costia doesn’t have any words for when Lexa crawls to her deliriously apologising for _anything and everything_ … And it makes no sense to the artist when Lexa becomes preoccupied by restless mumblings about sky people and the coalition, even in her sleep. But because Costia has never been able to watch Lexa in pain — she calls Clarke.

She always calls Clarke…because Clarke seems just as beholden to this nightmare that terrorises them both. And it’s only in the moments where Clarke is talking Lexa down or tending to Lexa’s attempts to escape through the lacerations to her wrists — that they both seem closer to who they used to be.

Finn takes care of his daughter, but in every other moment he _drinks_. He drinks until he doesn’t know his own name but always still seems to struggle to forget the woman that broke his heart. He’s angry, all the time and nothing of the good-natured farm boy that everybody grew up with. And with each time Clarke seems to prioritise _someone else_ , over their family? Well, Finn begins to lose himself and any sense hope that he still holds onto. He chases Clarke in a drunken fury to the door yelling cruel and unforgiving things. He’s throwing empty scotch bottles at the corner of her head and watching them shatter in the dust that she leaves behind as leaves to play the saviour to Lexa.

It’s only on Maddie’s fifth birthday where things come to an untenable head. It’s supposed to be a day of celebration as Finn promises to himself one day of sobriety and pays for a far-too-extravagant cake. Costia is setting up the streamers, hats and signs as Maddie prances around in her ballerina gear. Lexa sits out on the patio and Clarke completing the finishing touches on dinner. The tension is always there these days but it’s the first in a while that they’re all _trying_ …

It’s a harsh truth that they all have to learn that sometimes trying is not always enough. They make the mistake of turning on the radio after the cake-cutting and it’s comes through songs of crackle a report of those that still remain on the frontline. The commentary is polished with no respect to the families that grieve as they rattle off the latest number of casualties and the concerns of a _resurgence_ in certain areas. They release the recordings of a soldier’s urgent report of the frontline that ends up being cut off by a nearby explosion. And that’s when it happened. Post-traumatic stress disorder is the clinical term but what it really is, is a persons internal attempt to disengage from the parts of themselves that still _feel_. It’s painful and contradictory because it’s not something that people can actually do. So instead they’re driven mad. They’re driven to extraordinary acts to not feel, even if that means to bleed themselves into apathy.

It happens to Lexa. 

It happens in their living room, terrifying the young girl whom cries from all the noise of the scene. Costia is resigned as she takes Maddie upstairs. However later on she’ll wonder if perhaps she should have stayed downstairs to watch Finn and to remind him of the costs of alcohol on a night like this. Finn’s on his fourth glass of scotch as he watches Clarke reassure Lexa back to the present. The glass breaks in his hand as he sees how they touch their foreheads together and an unmentionable relieve enters both their eyes. Somewhere along the lines, Finn blacks out. And when he wakes, Maddie hides from him behind Costia’s leg and Clarke and Lexa have their hands held up in some attempt at a placation. Finn looks down and sees the broken whiskey bottle in his hand. He sees the way Clarke and Lexa try to edge in front of each other in an instinct to protect.

Finn is a loss for words, falling to his knees and dropping the weapon. His world is finally shattered when Maddie runs to him, rushing to wrap her tiny arms around his neck; a desperate attempt to console. Finn takes deep breaths as he feels himself returning the embrace. He tries to deserve the compassion swirling in the blue eyes that are so much like his own.

It becomes a time of changes again. Costia and Maddie helps Finn tip every bottle of alcohol down the sink. They let his workplace know that he will be on a sabbatical and they enrol him in a 6 month residential detox program. Finn almost tries to get out of it, but he finds himself flashing back to the horror of that night and what it felt like to have Maddie seem him as a monster, even if for just a second. So, he shakes it all off and signs his name on the admission form. He tries to make them all proud. Clarke learns Maddie’s routines and tries to get to know the young girl that love made.

It’s only halfway through his recovery when the call comes. Clarke and Lexa receive another letter from the military. This one talks about a policy called _stop-loss_. It’s a lot of fancy legal jargon but perhaps what it all boils down to is that the nation asks them to serve again, regardless of what the current state of their lives or term may look like. Finn is speechless when Clarke comes to show him the documents. He crumples them in his fists and doesn’t even notice that tears stream violently down his cheeks. And he knows alright? He understands that how Clarke is built — all tenants of responsibility, compassion and _morality_ intwined into the strands of her DNA. Still, with the jaggedness of his broken heart in his chest Finn _cannot_ do this again. So he says as faithfully as he can - _that he and Maddie won’t be here to return to if Clarke leaves this time._

For the first time in a while - Clarke breaks in front of him. Her shoulders drop and she looks as hopeless as he does because they both know the outcome. Clarke goes home to pack her duffle. She tries to ignore the pain in her chest as Maddie begins to cry beside her every step of the way.

Lexa is similarly ready. She’s nothing that the army wants in a soldier anymore, but perhaps she’s just put together enough to still hold a gun. And, perhaps that’s all anyone will ask of her this time. In the space of 48 hours their lives shift again. Costia knows better than to try to talk her fiancé out of it. All she can do is wonder how Lexa might return to her this time, for Costia has nightmares of a torn apart body cased in wooden boxes with a draped flag.

After the detox, Finn needs to leave the town that reminds him so much of Clarke. He needs to pass a local football field and have memories of kissing the blonde in the rain. He needs to buy his groceries without the reminder of how Clarke dragged him around to peruse every option for a soft diet in planning for his wisdom teeth removal. And he needs to wake up in a different house, one that he didn’t carry Clarke over the threshold for. It’s hard to remain sober, but Maddie’s his start and his end, and Finn is already a good father but he resolves to be better.

Costia comes to help him pack. Finn doesn’t ask about how Clarke or Lexa is going, although he does know that they’re staying with Costia whilst awaiting the final deployment plans. It’s a slow process. Maddie has a lot of trinkets and god forbid if they forget even just one. Costia is lighter as she bustles around in the house and plays go fish with them one more time. The sun is setting as they look out to the changing skies. Finn can’t help but feel like they’ve done this before as he smiles in gratitude and fondness for the friend who shares much of the same burdens but always seems to handle it it better. Still, Finn can’t help but ask.

“Why do you keep staying around for her... _for them_?”

Costia’s head tilts slightly as she seems to analyse him. She must find what she needs because she is without any airs as she whispers earnestly.

“Because sometimes it seems like Clarke and Lexa might never forgive themselves if nobody ever shows them how…”

Costia eventually goes home. She checks on both Clarke and Lexa who have fallen asleep on the couch and makes sure set everyone’s alarms for the next day.

——

It’s a year later when Finn next hears from Clarke. He’s kept in touch with Costia over the time and is aware that the girls were returned after only six months abroad. They had both been in the most recent bombings and have finally been given honourable discharges for the price paid. Turns out, the politics of the war had once again undergone another transformation and the new presidential administration makes the call to stop the fighting and to bring back soldiers instead. Instead of a count of the death-toll, the narrative shifts to become recovery and rehabilitation. So Finn doesn’t really know what to expect when Costia tells him that Clarke had asked about Maddie and himself.

Still, perhaps it’s just like Clarke to just appear in his driveway - proud, with a lower limb prosthetic and as radiant as she’s always been. The blonde has her military bag hoisted over her shoulder and though it looks like her body has only been barely stitched back together she’s certainly still far stronger than he feels. Finn is frozen in his spot at the front door that he doesn’t even notice when Maddie comes out to ask what is taking him so long. The now nearly seven year old follows his gaze to the outline of the woman standing in the distance. Maddie doesn’t rush to say hello. No, she simply slips her hand into her fathers, squeeing gently in solidarity and support.

Finn must see the conflict in his daughter because her shakes his head gently and gestures for her to go to Clarke - _that he would be ok_. And it must be honest because Maddie sighs in relief and hurtles down the driveway to throw her arms around the woman that she’s always been desperate to know. She wants to meet the person that has always held her father whole heart. Her arms tighten when she hears Clarke’s warmth tinkering laughter. As wisps of Clarke’s hair flap around to form striking patterns on the older woman’s face Maddie may just start to understand how her father might be still so enamoured, because — there’s something about Clarke, a strength and a serenity. So she drags Clarke forwards towards the house.

Clarke who is content with just being led towards the family that she’s never really given herself the opportunity to get to know and love — pauses at the threshold. She’s standing shoulder to shoulder with Finn and she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Finn still smells of a combination of engine oil and hay stacks and it’s a familiar reassurance. She finds herself placing a hand over his heart, and is immediately responded to with a quickening and a stronger beat. Clarke smiles in silent relief as she looks up at his features. Finn’s eyes remain kind as she places a hand over hers. There’s a drawn out second as they try to find grounding in each other’s gaze and something must click again because the tension leaves their frames. Something snaps in their souls and it feels like healing and a better story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was a longer one. More messy but a story that wouldn't leave my mind with the song.  
> Anyways I'll try to work on the last 5 chapters if anyone is still interested

**Author's Note:**

> Hope this lives up to the music. I know everyone has their own attachments to these songs


End file.
